


Maestra

by avesnongrata



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F, F/M, Torture, Unrequited Love, Violence, sex under confession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avesnongrata/pseuds/avesnongrata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By performing the Spells of Undoing, Zedd grievously altered the course of history. Now, Richard, Kahlan, Cara and Zedd must team up with Nicci and Rahl to find a way to appease the Maestra, the Goddess of Time, before she decides to correct the problem by destroying the entire universe, past, present and future. This, however, will be no easy task; Zedd's spells split the course of history into three paths. Which one, if any, will be saved?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cara stood alone on a vast expanse of pebble-strewn beach, watching as the sun set behind the Pillars of Creation. In the fading light the patchy clouds burned impossibly pink and yellow without, Cara noted, the tinge of eerie green cast by the tear in the veil between the Underworld and the world of the living. Cara bent down and picked a stone up off the beach. She let it roll around in her palm a few times before tossing it into the surf just like every other stone she’d picked up over the course of the past few hours. She’d spent the afternoon wandering the beaches east of the Pillars of Creation, lost in thought. After months of questing and traveling and fighting and running and feeling, the rift was finally sealed. The Keeper had been defeated, just as the prophecies had foretold. The prophecies, however, had nothing to say about what was supposed to happen next.

Cara had pointed this out to her companions earlier in the afternoon, once the elation of victory had ebbed. Zedd had suggested a meal and immediately began preparations for one. The four of them had eaten in next to complete silence, Richard and Kahlan sitting knee to knee, occasionally meeting one another’s eyes and grinning as if every care the two of them had ever had in the world had suddenly vanished. It had occurred to Cara that that was exactly what had just happened. The thought was unsettling, to say the least. 

After their meal, Zedd had stretched out in the patchy sunshine for a nap while Richard and Kahlan set out to explore the ruins. They’d asked Cara to join them but she’d declined, choosing instead to head to the beach for a bath. She’d peeled off her sweaty, dusty, bloodstained leathers and bounded eagerly into the surf only to find it freezing beyond even a Mord’Sith’s tolerance. She’d momentarily considered joining Richard and Kahlan back at the pillars, but the thought of spending the afternoon watching the two of them kiss and caress crushed the air from her lungs in much the same way the icy water had. Instead, she’d taken to hurling rocks for the afternoon. It had seemed a sensible thing to do at the time.

Hours later, Cara still couldn’t figure out why she felt so restless. She thought maybe it had something to with the abrupt and anti-climactic end to the battle with the Keeper, but the problem seemed to defy such a simple explanation. She threw another stone. Perhaps it also had something to do with the way Kahlan and Richard looked at one another. It seemed likely but still didn’t feel like the whole truth. She picked up another stone.

“I wouldn’t throw that one if I were you.” a voice chuckled from behind her. It was Zedd. Cara let her arm drop and studied the stone in the palm of her hand. It was rough and unremarkable except maybe for its blue color and slight sparkle.

“It’s a sapphire.” Zedd explained. “The beaches are littered with them and other gems as well. They must have been formed when the rift was sealed. Get that thing cut and polished and it could fetch quite a sum.”

Cara tucked the stone securely under her belt and said nothing. Zedd smiled at her and gingerly lowered himself down onto the sand, motioning for her to join him. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the sun set.

“I was beginning to think we’d never see another sunset untainted by the green glow of the Underworld.” Zedd remarked conversationally. “It’s a relief to know the Keeper is trapped there forever. We’ll camp among the pillars tonight and depart in the morning. I’m sure Kahlan will want to reach Aydindril as soon as possible. She has her work cut out for her, what with the chaos of Rahl’s overthrow and the Keeper’s war and everything.”

Cara made an unintelligible sound deep in her throat.

“It should be a beautiful night.” Zedd continued, unruffled by Cara’s obvious lack of interest in conversation. “You see that cloud to the south? It’s hanging lower in the sky than the others, which means…”

“Something is wrong.” she interrupted, glowering at the waves as they broke along the shore.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she felt Zedd shift uncomfortably next to her before he spoke. “Nothing is wrong, Cara.” he placated gently. “The rift is sealed, the world of the living saved. I restored Richard’s vision, Kahlan is no longer confessed to that she-devil Nicci and we all have our lives. Your uneasiness is most likely the result of a feeling you haven’t encountered in awhile: calm. Most people crave it. You’ll learn to appreciate it too, in time.”

“I know what the aftermath of victory feels like, Wizard, and this is nothing like it.” Cara responded, forcing her tone to sound belligerent and not as apprehensive as she felt. “I’ve been thinking it over all afternoon.” she continued, more gently. “All is right in the world, and yet I feel like something is wrong. The obvious conclusion is that there’s something wrong with me.” She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Ours is a complete victory, as you said. When I joined this quest, I fully expected to die serving the Lord Rahl and I would have done so without hesitation. But I didn’t and I am thankful for that. Thankful that I will live to see Richard lauded as a hero, proud to have made it possible for Kahlan to restore justice.” Cara’s chin rose and her eyes flashed. “Victory. Loyalty. Pride. I should feel stronger now than ever before.” She stared Zedd down long enough to make him shrink away uncertainly. The corner of her lip twitched into the smallest of smirks before her gaze faltered and she allowed her shoulders to sag. “So why do I feel… incomplete?”

“You were given a taste of what it would be like to return to your former life and then it was taken away from you with the deaths of your sisters. That can’t have been easy for you.” Zedd offered.

Cara shook her head dismissively. “I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that I will never again be able to return to my old life. The Mord’Sith under Darken Rahl’s command cast me out. I serve Richard now. Besides, I don’t even know how many of us are left.”

“A lone Mord’Sith is as absurd as a lone Night Wisp.” Zedd countered. “Perhaps you should go seek out the rest of your sisters. You could convince them to set aside the ancient feud and offer their services to the Mother Confessor as a force for good.”

“I’m sure most would rather die.”

“The desire to defend life rather than destroy it is not something to be ashamed of.”

Cara leaped to her feet and wheeled on the wizard, eyes igniting with rage. “Don’t start that again, Wizard. You know nothing of that it means to be Mord’Sith. We all have the desire to preserve life, each and every one of us. We’re taught to control our emotions so we can torture and kill without being destroyed mentally and emotionally but that doesn’t mean we enjoy killing. Even under the command of Lord Rahl, our objective was rarely to kill. That’s what the Dragon Corps was for. Why else would we have been given the power to bestow the breath of life? We are capable of the most unimaginable torture only because we are strong enough and brave enough to shoulder that kind of pain ourselves. Once a man is broken, he will never again face such torment in his lifetime. A Mord’Sith endures three breakings of her own and then is broken again and again each time she undertakes another training. My powers bind people to me just as surely as Kahlan’s bind people to her. The only difference is I myself am bound just as closely to the ones I break. I feel every crumb of the pain I inflict. I have died a thousand deaths with the lives I’ve taken. Don’t you dare believe, even for a moment, that I couldn’t kill Kahlan because something was inherently different about me. I couldn’t kill her because something is inherently different about her. I couldn’t kill her because I l--“

“Don’t say it.” Zedd snapped, standing so he towered over Cara. “It isn’t true. It can’t be true. You’ve been deluding yourself for months with the ridiculous notion that you’re in love with her.” The way he sneered to emphasize ‘love’ made Cara’s stomach wrench and her eyes sting with anger. “You’re only making yourself look foolish. The love Kahlan has for Richard can never be stopped or diverted. It can withstand the tests of time and space. It has saved the very world on more than one occasion. I have never known such powerful magic. Next to the strength of their love for one another, your little infatuation looks like a parlor magician pulling coins out of ears at a child’s birthday party. If you insist on following Richard around from here on out, I suggest you either abandon this delusion or learn to suffer your jealousy in silence. You can never be what the Mother Confessor needs. You can never give Kahlan what she wants. Richard can do both of these things. There is no place for a disgraced and confused Mord’Sith in the legendary love story of Richard Rahl and Kahlan Amnell. If I catch you looking at her with lust in your eyes again, I’ll…”

But Cara didn’t find out what, exactly, Zedd was planning to do to her. She was preoccupied trying to figure out why the backs of her knuckles smarted and her breath was painful and ragged in her lungs. Zedd stared at her in astonishment, rubbing his cheek and shifting his jaw back and forth. It slowly occurred to her that she’d backhanded him across the face, though she did not recall feeling the desire to, let alone letting her hand fly. She stared back, breathing heavily, before turning her back on him and walking away.

“Cara, I…” 

She silenced him with a glare over her shoulder, tacitly warning him not to follow her. She continued on down the beach, leaving the shocked wizard behind.

As soon as she’d made it past a tall, rocky outcropping and safely out of Zedd’s sight, Cara broke into a run. Her boots left deep impressions in the soft sand, making it hard to gain speed but she didn’t care. She only needed to keep running, keep moving to keep up with her racing mind. Her thoughts were jumbled and the feeling of being so out of control brought her close to panic. She pulled her Agiels out of their holster and gripped them tight, the pain shooting through her arms clearing her head. She veered closer to the water’s edge where the sand was wet and did not slip out from under her feet. Her frantic scrambling gave way to the familiar pattern of running and her breathing calmed to match. 

Cara thought about what Zedd had said. As much as she resented the old wizard for his harsh tone and his blind faith in the power of Richard’s love for Kahlan, she had to admit he was right. She had lost track of the number of times she’d told herself the same things he had said to her. Kahlan loved Richard. She’d loved him long before Cara had met either of them and she continued to love him for the entirety of their time together. Cara knew it was not wrong of her to have feelings for the Mother Confessor: indeed it would be difficult for a woman as strong and as beautiful as Kahlan not to attract Cara’s attention and earn her respect. There was also no reason for Cara to be ashamed of lusting after Kahlan: she was not the first woman Cara had desired. For months, Cara had contented herself with the occasional illicit fantasy, safe (if not satisfied) in the knowledge that, had Richard never come into her life, Kahlan would have some other man on her arm and in her heart.

Then Leo had come along. Cara remembered how infuriating it had been to have Kahlan smiling that wicked, intoxicating smile at her, only to coax her into the arms of the first man who’d come their way since they’d set out on their quest. Cara could not deny that losing Leo had been hard, but the way Kahlan had carried on about her losing a chance at true love had been almost unbearable. Cara had resolved, then and there, to stamp out her infatuation for yet another straight woman who would never understand how she felt. 

For a few weeks it had worked, but her victory was short lived. It took only a playful shove, a lingering glance and an offhanded comment about the cut of her neckline for Cara to allow herself to hope. In her weakness she’d even managed to convince herself that Kahlan would understand if she told her how she felt about her. She had even tried to do just that, in her own halting way, when the two of them were trapped and marked for death inside that tomb. But no, Kahlan’s knight in shining armor had rescued her, wiping away all thoughts of their previous conversation and leaving Cara to pick herself and her pride up off the floor. She had been certain then that Kahlan only had eyes for Richard. She’d buried her feelings again, this time determined to keep them subdued.

Yet again she’d failed. Though she knew it was only the result of her confession that made it happen, the pain of seeing Kahlan look at Nicci with such passion in her eyes tore open that particular wound once more. The thought that Kahlan could have feelings for someone other than Richard - another woman no less - but still not for Cara caused her more pain than she could bear. And then on top of that for Kahlan to be freed from confession only to beg her to bring Richard back from the Underworld so the two of them could be reunited, with Zedd’s blessing…

‘Perhaps he’s right’ she thought to herself, slowing from a run to a jog. ‘Perhaps there is no place for me with them anymore.’ She slowed to a walk and then to a standstill. ‘But where would I go?’ She thought about her sisters and how they would not want her after all this time. She thought about returning to Stowcroft but dismissed the idea almost immediately; she’d caused enough damage the last time she was there. Whatever she decided to do, she’d need money since she had no skills that would be of use to anyone, nor was anyone likely to hire a former Mord’Sith any time soon. Then she remembered the sapphire she’d tucked into her belt. She pulled it out and examined it in the light of the newly risen moon. It was good of Zedd to tell her of the rough stone’s worth. The thought took some of the sting away from the words the wizard had thrown at her earlier. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she spun on her heel and began to make her way back up the beach towards the pillars, barely visible in the moonlight. She would, of course, stay with Richard and Kahlan and Zedd, for as long as they would keep her around. Her job was to protect the Lord Rahl and the Spirits knew it was only a matter of time before he stirred up new and life-threatening trouble for himself. As she walked, she realized Zedd had been right about another thing: the beach really was littered with large, rough gemstones. She bent and picked up the more interesting-looking ones to bring back in case she needed them later.

By the time Cara reached the pillars, the moon was high in the sky. The sounds of snoring reached her long before she reached her sleeping companions. The corners of her mouth were tugged slightly upward at the familiar sound, one she’d come to associate with comfort and safety. When the guttering campfire came into view, however, she could see Zedd sprawled on the ground near the place where Kahlan lay asleep, wrapped tightly in Richard’s arms. Though the night had grown cold, she stayed within the fire’s warm circle only long enough to deposit her handfuls of stones into her pack and grab her blanket before moving to the opposite side of a large pillar. She wrapped herself in her blanket, sank miserably to the ground, and soon enough the exhaustion that had been building over the last few days overcame her and she slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Nicci regained consciousness to find herself suspended from the ceiling above a circular grate in the floor. The pain in her wrists where the shackles were cutting into them was excruciating, more so even than the pain in the rest of her body, which felt like it was on fire. She willed her eyes to focus and realized that every inch of her naked body was covered in raw, angry burns. The shackles had torn into the blistered flesh on her wrists and blood ran slowly down her arms to the Rada’Han around her neck. ‘Darken Rahl kept his word’ she thought to herself, wondering vaguely if he planned to kill her himself or if he intended to leave her chained up until hunger and infection raced to do the job for him. 

As if on cue, the door to the cell was unbolted with a resounding thud and two Mord’Sith entered, one carrying something in a bowl, the other a bundle of some sort of cloth. Nicci refused to meet their eyes as the two women circled her slowly, inspecting every inch of her. 

“At least she’s awake this time,” the dark-eyed one remarked conversationally, as if Nicci wasn’t even there. “This dull chore should be more fun this way.” 

Her companion, a slightly taller woman bearing the remnants of what was recently a stunning black eye, laughed softly in agreement, setting the bundle of cloth strips on a nearby table. Nicci watched her out of the corner of her eye as she picked a rag off the top of the pile and dipped it into the bowl. The other Mord’Sith did the same and in one synchronous motion they turned and approached Nicci, one on either side. She steeled herself, determined not to react audibly or visibly to whatever torment her captors had in store. 

To her surprise and confusion, what followed was more like discomfort than the agony she’d been expecting. The Mord’Sith’s touches were not gentle, nor were the rags soft against her raw flesh, but the ointment they administered quickly soothed the burns, overtaking the pain. Nicci gritted her teeth, trying to keep the mixture of confusion and relief off her face while the two Mord’Sith quickly and efficiently applied the ointment to her entire body. 

Unfortunately, her struggle did not escape notice. “Look, Cathryn, she’s pretending it doesn’t hurt,” the smaller of the two smirked, her dark eyes flashing with amusement.

“Bitch. After all the trouble we’ve gone to, keeping those burns clean, you’d think she’d at least humor us with a whimper. Maybe a few tears?” The other woman applied more pressure with her rag, hoping for a response. Nicci’s throat stung with the effort of holding back a gasp.

Seconds later a sharp, impossibly loud crack broke the stillness of the cell, followed immediately by Nicci’s gasp and keening wail of pain. Stars popped in front of her eyes and she struggled not to vomit. After many agonizing seconds, the pain began to subside and she felt the heat of blood trickling down the back of her thigh from a fresh wound on the curve of her ass.

“Mariel, Lord Rahl specifically ordered us not to harm her.” Cathryn scolded, poorly masking the delight in her voice. “Yet.”

“Lord Rahl hasn’t come to see her since we hauled her out of that bath. He’ll never know. I would think you’d want to rough her up a little after she gave you that black eye…”

Cathryn didn’t need much persuading; she already had her rag in both hands and was winding it taut. Nicci let out an involuntary gasp as the rag whistled through the air with all of Cathryn’s ire behind it. The corner lashed into Nicci’s flesh, opening another wound slightly below her navel. Nicci bit into her lip against the pain until it split and she was forced to let her howl fill every corner of the room. Mariel shot Cathryn an impressed smirk before raising her own rag again.

“That’s enough for now,” Darken Rahl’s voice rang out over the sick choking noises coming from deep in Nicci’s throat. “You may go.”

“Lord Rahl.” The Mord’Sith stood down obediently, if somewhat reluctantly, retrieved the bloody rags and the remaining ointment and slid silently out the door.

In an effort to regain some of her dignity, Nicci sneered at Rahl, staring him down as he approached her. “You honor me with your presence, Rahl,” she mocked. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind about having plans for me, seeing as you’d leave my care and keeping to the likes of those two.”

“Unfortunately, Sister Nicci, you will indeed prove useful to me.” Rahl’s voice was all velvet and derision as he brought his hands up and grated them down her arms to her breasts.

Nicci stared viciously ahead, ignoring the pain and humiliation of his touch. “I am not ‘Sister’ Nicci. I no longer serve the Keeper.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find it is to your benefit to rejoin your sisters. But this time, you won’t be serving the Keeper. You’ll be serving me.” He raked his fingers down her belly then snaked his arms around her waist, cupping her ass and smirking slightly at the feel of her blood running between his fingers.

“Not for all the naked, writhing souls in the Underworld!” Nicci spat, her vision swimming. 

“Mariel and Cathryn will be pleased to hear that. It’s been too long since they’ve had anyone to play with. Don’t worry, their skills are as sharp as ever. They’ll do a fine job with your training.”

“To what end?”

“You’re capable of confessing Kahlan Amnell. That power is quite valuable to me.” Rahl leaned in close enough to bite Nicci’s collarbone under the Rada’Han before continuing, growling into her ear. “When my Mord’Sith are through with you, you will seek out the Mother Confessor and use her own magic to confess her once again. You will order her to confess my dear baby brother, and then the two of them will use their influence and glowing reputations to gain control over the three territories. It should be an easy enough task for the people’s beloved Seeker and Confessor. Between you and Kahlan you should even be able to confess enough of the right people to ensure their authority is not questioned. Once their hold on the throne is secured… they will instate me as High Lord and Master, as I should have been long before now.” He shuddered with barely-contained rage. “And then I will send them both to the Keeper.”

“What’s in it for me?” Nicci asked, unimpressed.

“Once you’ve held up your end of the bargain, I’ll remove the Rada’Han, once and for all.”

“And my head along with it.”

“That’s the idea.”

“I have a better idea. I confess Kahlan. She confesses Richard. They unite the Midlands, Westland and D’Hara and hand the reigns to the both of us. You get rid of this Rada’Han and we rule as equals.” She cocked an eyebrow at him and smirked.

Rahl tsked his disapproval. “And why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Because if you refuse, I’ll refuse to tell you what I learned during my brief foray into the Underworld.” she taunted. “Believe me, what I know will throw more than a wrench into your scheme.”

“A charming ploy, Nicci, but I won’t be fooled so easily.”

Nicci’s voice hardened. “The choice is yours, Rahl. We can do this my way and live to enjoy our success or we can do this your way and there won’t be a single soul left in the world to rule over. There won’t even be a single soul left in the Underworld, nor will there be a Keeper to torment them. The Maestra will make sure of that.”

Darken Rahl blanched and took a few halting paces backward, searching Nicci’s eyes for some small sign that she was bluffing. He found none. “The Maestra? The Goddess of Time?”

“The same.”

“I’m listening…”


	3. Chapter 3

Several days and many miles along the road back to Aydindril from the Pillars of Creation, Richard finally gave in to Zedd’s continual requests to spend a few days at an inn to rest and restock. They’d found such an inn in the very next village they’d come across, a small but prosperous town called Morsewood. The village was far enough off the main roads that the D’Harans seemed to have mostly overlooked it, though it was far from untouched by the war. The people of Morsewood, eager for the services of a Confessor, generously offered the four of them rooms and hot meals for as long as they cared to stay. Zedd accepted on their behalf.

That night, Kahlan lay awake in a small but well-kept room above the tavern. The combination of the large meal she’d had and the soft, warm bed she was curled up in should certainly have put her straight to sleep, yet sleep eluded her. The strong liquor, perhaps some sort of whiskey, Cara convinced her to try after dinner had gone to her head, but it was not the only thing making her head spin. She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable without waking Richard who was wrapped securely around her; the stubble on his cheek was beginning to rub the skin on the back of her neck raw. The thoughts running through her head made her far more uncomfortable than the sticky heat of Richard’s body pressed against her.

Things had changed so quickly. She’d spent the past few years continually on the run, fleeing would-be captors and assassins, racing against enemies, time and the Keeper himself. All that time she’d longed to have the life she’d pictured as a girl, a life she could spend with a family of her own, living in Aydinrdil or traveling the Midlands at her own pace, using her powers to ensure peace and prosperity. Now that Darken Rahl had been overthrown and the Keeper defeated, she was free to have such a life. As the Mother Confessor, she was even expected to do the things she’d daydreamed of. But now that everything she’d ever wanted had been placed within her grasp, she was no longer sure she could reach out and take it and be content. Kahlan knew she’d survived the trials of the past few years because she’d had a clear task in front of her and the discipline to reach that goal without succumbing to any distractions. She had taken on every challenge thrown at her and she’d come out stronger because of every single one. When she’d completed one trial there was always another to take its place: find the boxes, hide the boxes, rescue the children, rescue Richard, confess that man, don’t trust that woman, find the stone, don’t give in to your exhaustion, don’t give in to lust or temptation, just a few more days, just a few more miles, just make it to the crest of that next hill…

And now all that was gone. 

Now the only tasks ahead of her, the same tasks she’d dreamed of as a child, seemed tame and unchallenging in comparison. Make it to Aydindril, restore order, take a mate, continue the line of Confessors.

Richard began to snore slightly, pulling her thoughts back into the room they shared. Kahlan took a deep breath and elbowed him in the ribs experimentally. Fortunately, she managed to get him to stop snoring without waking him up. Unfortunately, that meant he’d rolled over to the other side of the bed, taking the covers with him. Kahlan sighed and sat up, drawing her knees to her bare chest and making the bed creak in complaint. 

The weak moonlight coming through the window fell across her lap and rested in Richard’s tousled hair. She ran her fingers through it, trying to determine whether the wisps of silver she saw were indeed strands of his hair turned grey prematurely by stress or whether it was merely a trick of the light. The familiar feeling of his hair between her fingers calmed her thoughts and she smiled to herself. She’d found her mate, a man she loved with her entire being, and their love protected him from her gift and her curse. She allowed herself to hope that her daughters would be as lucky.

Kahlan couldn’t quite wrap her head around the idea that she hadn’t destroyed Richard when they’d tumbled into bed together a few hours earlier. She’d spent her whole life under the impression that anything more passionate than a kiss would unleash her powers and the thought of making love to a confessed man was more than enough incentive to keep her powers firmly under control. She felt a little foolish now that she’d been proven wrong. 

Nevertheless, a part of her remained unconvinced. Over the course of the night, she never came close enough to losing control of her powers to put Richard in serious danger. She was already accustomed to keeping herself in check during even their most passionate kisses, so that hadn’t been a problem. She’d even managed to keep control while Richard fumbled clumsily with the laces of her dress and the stays of her corset. But as his hands and mouth worked their way across her bare skin her confidence had begun to waver. She’d been momentarily distracted by the awkward collisions of their limbs and the impossibly loud creaking of the bed when they’d attempted to switch positions, but that hadn’t lasted long. When Richard’s mouth found the insides of her upper thighs she’d felt her control slip again and the feeling sent her into a bit of a panic, one she was determined not to let Richard notice. 

He hadn’t. 

She’d spent the next few moments clinging hard to Richard’s shoulders and harder to her magic until she’d gotten it back under control. She hadn’t let herself slip again, though the twinge of pain when he took her and the occasional pull on the few strands of her hair that were pinned under his arm made her job significantly easier. When Richard finally flopped down onto the sheets next to her, breathless, grinning and definitely not confessed, Kahlan was relieved if not particularly satisfied. He’d kissed her and fallen asleep shortly thereafter and she’d been awake, unsettled and a little sore ever since.

Kahlan stared at the back of Richard’s head, her brow furrowed. As her worries began to take her over, Richard stirred and rolled over to face her.

“Kahlan, what’s wrong?” he murmered, still half asleep.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m fine. I was just watching you sleep.”

Richard beamed groggily at her. “You look worried. And cold. Come here.”

She did as he asked and turned over onto her stomach, sliding back under the covers next to him. He rearranged the pillows for her and once she was resting comfortably he swept her hair out of the way and gently rubbed her back and shoulders. “You’ll have enough to worry about when we get to Aydendril. You should try and get some sleep now.” 

Kahlan exhaled slowly and willed her thoughts to calm and her body to relax under Richard’s hands. He hummed a little under his breath as he worked the tension out of her shoulders and before too long Kahlan finally drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun had barely set the next evening when Kahlan pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. She yawned and stretched luxuriously, managing to look completely exhausted and entirely content at the same time. Morsewood had not seen a confessor in a very long time, so she’d spent from sunrise until early evening hearing complaints and settling disputes, most of them petty, all of them steeped in the essence of small-town Midlands in a way that reminded her how much she had missed the life of a Confessor. Perhaps taking my place as the Mother Confessor won’t be a downgrade after all she thought to herself.

She picked up the last crust of bread left on her plate and popped it into her mouth. The meal was delicious. Even Zedd had eaten his fill. He was currently in the process of nodding off in his chair, a disconcerting sight because he slept with his eyes open. Kahlan shot Richard a mischievous glance and he rose from the table to escort her upstairs. Zedd started at the sound of Richard’s chair scraping across the tavern floor and he shook himself awake.

“What am I doing drifting off at the table when there’s a remarkably comfortable bed waiting for me upstairs?” he laughed.

“Richard and I were on our way upstairs, too. It’s been a long day.”

Zedd smiled and nodded at the two of them. “Just make sure you two actually get some sleep tonight. We need to be on our way tomorrow and it won’t do for you to stay up late like you did last night.”

Kahlan blushed furiously and stepped behind Richard to try and hide it. Richard beamed, pinched her playfully and began guiding her towards the stairs. “Goodnight, Zedd,” he called behind him.

Just then, Cara burst into the tavern. She’d been away doing spirits knew what all day and had missed dinner. Kahlan began to question her, but Cara cut her off without so much as looking at her.

“Richard, I need to speak with you,” Cara said slowly. Zedd got up from the table and joined them at the base of the stairs, a concerned look on his face. Cara shifted her gaze to him and growled “Alone.”

The wizard stiffened but said nothing. He merely took Kahlan gently by the elbow and led her up the stairs. The handful of eavesdroppers scattered around the tavern also made good their escape. The innkeeper nervously untied his apron and handed his dishtowel over to the unfortunate young woman who was just beginning her shift behind the bar. He mouthed _good luck_ to her before beating a hasty retreat.

Cara watched them go before turning her attention back to Richard. “I caught you on your way to bed.”

Richard nodded, though he sensed it was not a question. Cara’s stare bored into the back of his skull. He wanted to look away but found he couldn’t.

“I expect you’re tired. You didn’t sleep very much last night,” she continued.

Richard laughed a little at this. “You’re a little late to tease me about that. Zedd beat you to it.”

“And if he hadn’t, surely everyone else within a league of this inn could have.”

Richard’s grin wavered. “What are you…”

“The walls here are remarkably thin and you were inconsiderately loud,” Cara stated coldly. “You kept me awake.”

Richard blushed and his shoulders sagged. He was painfully aware of the few other people who remained in the tavern, thus far oblivious to the confrontation. “I’m sorry,” he began, but Cara cut him off.

“From the sound of it, you should be apologizing to Kahlan, not me. It didn’t sound like she had much fun. A bit of advice, Seeker: either stop disgracing yourself trying to bed the Mother Confessor in roadside inns, or see that you gain the skills necessary to make up for your base surroundings. I don’t care which you choose, as long as you do it quietly from now on.” Cara’s words resounded icily throughout the room. The onlookers stared, mouths agape, no longer oblivious. They scattered as Cara turned on her heel and strode toward the bar, making it clear that was her final word on the matter.

The battle between rage and humiliation made Richard’s ears burn and his hands clench into fists. He wanted to shout at Cara but he could not ignore the feeling that she was right. He forced down his rage, gave in to his humiliation and stalked dejectedly up the stairs, leaving Cara alone at the bar.

“That wasn’t very nice,” remarked the bartender, cutting through the cloud of anger and disgust that Cara exuded.

Cara answered without looking up, speaking more to herself than to the woman behind the bar. “It had the desired effect: they won’t be keeping me awake anymore. It’s embarrassing the way they behave. He is a grown man. She’s the Mother Confessor. There is no excuse for them to act like lovestruck teenagers.” Cara’s stomach turned painfully at the thought of Richard’s hands on Kahlan’s body, the two of them blissfully entwined without a care about anything or anyone else in the world.

Once again the bartender’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Do you love him?”

“Not him.” Cara’s head shot up, her eyes wide. She had not meant to say that aloud. She turned a suspicious eye to the bartender who returned her gaze, smiling pleasantly. “How did you make me tell you that?”

The woman shrugged and picked a glass up off the bar. “Maybe it just needed to be said.” She began carefully cleaning the glass in her hand. “I’m a bartender. Isn’t it my job to listen to whatever it is you have to say?”

Cara grunted and looked away. She refused to say anything else for fear the woman would make her talk about her feelings again. She tried to stare resolutely at the patterns in the wood of the bar, but she found herself following the bartender with her eyes as the woman circled the now-empty room, gathering up empty glasses and returning them to the bar to be washed. Cara tried not to notice how the woman carried herself like a hunter but moved like a dancer. She refused to be impressed with how easily her long fingers gripped several glasses at once or how she could balance them all on her tray without dropping a single one. Cara swept her eyes around the room, analyzing every detail except the way the ties of her apron accented the curves of the woman’s hips and waist or the way the sleeves of her shirt were rolled up snugly against her strong upper arms. She was in the process of not watching the woman’s large, deft hands clean a glass when she realized she was being spoken to.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“I said, ‘since you’ve frightened off all my customers, the least you can do is have a drink while you ignore me.’” She slid Cara a generous glass of amber liquid.

Cara eyed the drink suspiciously. “What is it?”

The woman laughed with her remarkably blue eyes. “The good stuff. You look like you can handle it.”

Without breaking eye contact, Cara raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. The drink was strong enough to make her eyes water but she didn’t let it.

“You’re right; it is good.” Cara lapsed back into sullen silence.

“I thought you might like it,” the woman beamed, doing her best to win Cara’s full attention. Cara hated to admit it, but she was doing an unusually good job. “Are you going to tell me your name, or am I going to have to make one up for you?”

“Cara,” answered Cara, once again shocked by how quickly the woman had gotten her to respond. She found the woman’s easy manner quite alluring and couldn’t help staring at her bright, intelligent eyes and soft, upturned lips.

The woman’s smile widened and she held out a hand to shake Cara’s. “Nice to meet you, Cara. I’m Dahlia.” Cara gripped the hand Dahlia had offered. The shock that went up their arms at that first moment of contact made both women blush, eyes locked. Cara was the first to look away. She berated herself for showing such weakness, but she was having a hard time controlling her breathing with Dahlia’s eyes on hers, her strong hand pressed against hers. She sipped her drink awkwardly. Dahlia gave her another small smile and resumed cleaning her glassware.

When she had finished washing, drying and storing all of the various cups she’d collected off the bar and empty tables, Dahlia slung her rag over a shoulder casually and leaned on the bar in front of Cara. “So, Cara. What’s it like adventuring with the Seeker and the Mother Confessor?” she asked good-naturedly.

Again, Cara answered honestly and automatically. She found, to her confusion, that she was getting used to answering Dahlia so easily. “Right now it’s a nightmare.”  
Dahlia’s brow creased with empathy. “It can’t all be lovesickness and bad sexual technique. You must have your fair share of exciting stories. I’d give anything to be able to go on adventures.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “You’d give up a warm bed and a reliable food source to travel the Midlands, sleeping on the cold, hard ground and eating dried biscuits paired with whatever you’re lucky enough to hunt or gather?” Cara’s voice held the trace of a challenge.

Dahlia leaned closer. “Sounds exciting to me. Besides, if I were travelling with the Seeker, we’d eat like kings every night.”

This time, both of Cara’s eyebrows rose. “You can hunt?” she asked, involuntarily sizing Dahlia up.

She nodded confidently, noticing that she’d caught Cara’s interest. She ran with it, flirting shamelessly. “My father taught me. He was quite the woodsman. Thanks to him, I can track a flea in an elk migration and light a fire with damp tinder in a snowstorm if I need to.”

Cara almost smiled, picking up the game. “Can you drop a sprinting rabbit at 200 paces?”

“Blindfolded.”

Cara tried not to think about Dahlia blindfolded. She failed spectacularly, her cheeks beginning to color. She steered the conversation back into calmer waters. “You said your father was quite the woodsman. What happened to him?”

Dahlia’s smile faded. “He died several years ago. Now it’s up to me to provide for my family.”

“I’m sorry,” Cara said, and meant it.

Dahlia shrugged. “Don’t be. I always knew I’d need to take care of them, sooner or later. My mother was a clothier, a damned good one, before the textile mills that cropped up during the war ran her nearly out of business. There was a time when she was the most popular seamstress in our province. Engagements were long in my home town so she’d have time to make the wedding dresses. Once her arthritis started slowing her down, her business slowed with her. By then, my brother was too far along in his studies to come home and find work. He’s a scholar, my brother. He’s got quite the mind for history. Unfortunately, no one is interested in hiring historians these days. He doesn’t really have any other, more practical skills, and even if he did, no one would hire him. A rumor got started that he’d chosen to become a scholar to avoid being drafted into the army during the war. It isn’t true, but he’s been branded a coward nonetheless. We agreed that he would be the one to stay and care for my mother while I left home to find work. For the past five years I’ve travelled around doing everything from scrubbing floors to taking in laundry to, well, tending bar. So here I am. Forgive me for talking your ear off, but talking to travelers when they pass through is the only thing keeping me sane until I can send home the next month’s wages.”

Cara listened quietly, rapt, to Dahlia’s story. “Where is home?”

“A little town called Stowcroft.”

Cara nearly choked on her drink. “Stowcroft? I was born in Stowcroft.”

Dahlia stared long and hard at her, agape. She searched her memory for traces of Cara, but none came to mind. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you. Or if I do, I don’t remember you.”

Cara shrugged. “I don’t remember you, either. I was taken away from there when I was very young.”

Dahlia nodded somberly. “That I do remember. The Mord’Sith would raid Stowcroft every so often and carry off young girls. I remember the year they would have come for me quite vividly. It must have been the same year you were taken.”

Cara tried hard not to imagine a young Dahlia being led away, screaming and thrashing, by a squad of leather-clad Mord’Sith. She failed at that, too, and shuddered. “I wonder why you weren’t taken.”

Dahlia’s eyes clouded. “Somehow I knew they were coming. I don’t know how I knew. My brother and I were playing in the yard when they came. I started throwing rocks at him. One hit him in the forehead and he started to bleed. I wanted to cry, but I laughed instead. I laughed and laughed and threw stone after stone. He seemed to understand and threw rocks right back at me. I still dream about the blood and the pain and the terror of that morning. My brother still has scars, one on his forehead, one on his shoulder blade, from where I hit him hardest. I’ve got this scar,” she touched her upper lip, just under her nose, “and this one,” she pulled the collar of her shirt down to reveal a raised scar on her collarbone, near her shoulder. Cara’s mouth watered as she was seized with a nigh uncontrollable urge to kiss both of the places Dahlia had indicated. “Small prices to pay for my freedom. I’m sure that’s why they didn’t take me; everyone knows the Mord’Sith only choose kind, sweet, pretty little girls.” Dahlia’s voice was quiet and subdued, but it still held the slightest trace of flirtatiousness. She ran her tongue along the scar on her lip and her eyes smoldered when she saw Cara’s eyes fixated on her every movement.

Cara reminded herself to breathe. “If they’d known you’d grow up to be so beautiful and kindhearted they would have taken you in a heartbeat,” she said before she could stop herself.

Dahlia’s face froze, taken aback. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever received. Thank you.” She recovered quickly from her initial shock and locked eyes with Cara, reaching behind her back to pick at the ties of her apron.

“What are you doing?”

Dahlia licked her lips as the knot holding her apron on loosened. “The tavern’s empty and the look on your face says my shift is over.”

Cara blinked, head reeling and not just from her drink. Dahlia glided out from behind the bar and sidled up next to Cara. She hooked a finger into the neckline of Cara’s top and pulled her close. “Take me upstairs?”

Cara could only nod, dumbstruck, as Dahlia grinned wolfishly and pulled her by her chest towards the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

It was close to dawn and the sky outside was only just beginning to lighten as Richard strode down the hall towards Cara’s room. He hadn’t slept well at all. Cara’s admonishment the previous evening embarrassed him more than he was willing to admit and, despite his best efforts, he and Kahlan had merely curled up and gone to sleep. Kahlan had been tired from a full day’s work, so she hadn’t seemed to mind. He couldn’t be certain but he thought she even seemed relieved. The thought unsettled him but he tried to ignore the feeling. At the moment he knew he had to focus on making peace with Cara. She’d been surly, short-tempered and miserable since they’d set out for Aydindril, even more so than usual. Richard didn’t know what was wrong, but he hated to see his friend so unhappy so he’d decided to invite her to go hunting with him. He fervently hoped it would cheer her up and make up for having offended her two nights previously.

He knocked tentatively on Cara’s door. There was no answer. He knocked harder but again he could hear no one stirring inside. Puzzled and concerned, he lifted the latch and pushed the door open.

Cara lay sprawled on her back in a tangle of bedclothes. One hand rested on her bare belly, rising and falling slightly with each steady breath. Her other hand was pressed gently against the lower back of the equally naked young woman asleep on Cara’s chest.

Richard froze and stared, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him. He started when Cara’s eyes fluttered open and he began to back slowly away.

“Cara, what…”

She raised a sleepy eyebrow at him and silenced him with a glare. “She’s asleep,” she murmured simply. She lifted her hand off the woman’s back and flexed her fingers experimentally. “So is my arm…” Richard thought he heard Cara laugh softly before her voice hardened once more. “If you wake her, I’ll turn you inside-out by your nostrils.”

Richard stumbled a hasty retreat, taking special care not to bang the door as he shut it behind him. He hurried back along the corridor and down the stairs, his hunt long forgotten. Instead he slipped out of the inn and paced the streets of the village, pouring over the scene in his mind. He still was not sure what he’d seen. The room had been dim, so it was entirely possible his eyes were playing tricks on him. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the person in Cara’s arms; perhaps it hadn’t been a woman after all. He shook his head. No, Cara had definitely warned him not to wake her. So why was Cara asleep with a woman in her arms? He thought about how Cara hadn’t been herself recently and an obvious answer came to him: maybe Cara was under a spell. He turned abruptly on his heel and headed back to the inn. Zedd would know what to do.

 

* * *

 

Cara shook her head in wry amusement as the door shut behind Richard.  He may be the Seeker and the rightful heir to the D’Haran empire, she thought, but he’s still a back country woodsman in many ways.  Under most other circumstances it would have irked her to have to teach him this particular life lesson, but as she gazed contentedly at Dahlia asleep on her shoulder she felt only a blissful, tingling calm.  The usually pervasive notion that something was wrong was conspicuously absent, she realized with a start.  As she studied the enticing curve of Dahlia’s lower lip, Cara’s mind raced.  She didn’t know how she knew it, but she was certain that the woman in her arms held the answers to all the half-formed questions that had plagued her since the Pillars of Creation.  Her very presence made Cara feel whole again in a way that brought into sharp contrast exactly how empty she once had been.

Nevertheless, new gnawing questions swam into Cara’s sleep-clouded mind.  _How is this even possible,_ she wondered.  _I’ve only known her for a few hours.  Why do I feel like she has what I need?  I thought it would have taken years to fill in these gaps…_   Her heart sank as she realized she’d never have the chance to find out more.  Richard, Kahlan and Zedd were leaving for Aydindril and she had to go with them.  In all likelihood she’d never see this woman again.  Cara shivered, wishing desperately that her Agiels were not on the floor and out of reach.  She longed for the pain they caused to drown out this new, unfamiliar ache.

At that moment Dahlia began to stir, sending pins and needles through Cara’s arm, the one pinned between Dahlia’s shoulder and the bed.  The sensation was not the same as that of her Agiels, but it would do.  Cara nearly laughed at the absurdity of it but found herself breathtaken as Dahlia smiled drowsily up at her.

“You’re still here,” Dahlia murmured, sounding mildly surprised.

“So it would seem.”

“I’d heard that a Mord’Sith takes her pleasure at first opportunity and takes her leave at first light,” Dahlia teased.

“If you hadn’t fallen asleep on my arm I’d be long gone.”  Dahlia looked stricken.  Cara backtracked quickly, trying to appease her.  “That may be true of most of us some of the time and some of us most of the time, but I assure you it is true of none of us all of the time.  Where did you hear such a thing?”

Dahlia relaxed, her playful manner returning quickly.  “My brother told me.  He experienced it firsthand.  He said a Mord’Sith caused quite a stir by bursting into the inn where he and his friends go to play at cards.  Apparently she chose him at random, right in the middle of his game, and took him upstairs with her.  By the time he woke up the next morning he was alone.”

“He must not have thought to fall asleep on her arm.”

Dahlia laughed.  “Either that or she was just a troublemaker.  She didn’t get far.  He said a mob arrested her before she’d even made it out of the tavern and put her on trial in front of the town council.  He was too embarrassed to attend the hearings himself, but he said it sparked quite a scandal.  Something about one of the teachers being a Mord’Sith…”

Cara’s stomach twisted into a horrendous knot and her face burned crimson.  Thinking quickly, she rolled Dahlia onto her back and hid her blush by kissing her collarbone, flicking her tongue across the raised scar near her shoulder in an attempt to distract her from the subject.  Her plan succeeded; Dahlia sighed happily at her kisses and twined her fingers into Cara’s hair.

Several seconds later, the sounds of the inn beginning to come awake drifted into the room.  Cara’s stomach knotted again.  Her time was about to run out.  She forced herself to disentangle and sit up, trying not to meet Dahlia’s gaze.  “I should go before an angry mob gets me.” _Again_ she added silently. 

Dahlia nodded, looking sorrowful.  “Off on more adventures with the Seeker and the Mother Confessor.  Spirits, but I’m jealous of you.  I’d give the equivalent of the entire Jocopo Treasure to be able to go adventuring.”

_Treasure._

Cara stopped in her tracks and blinked at her.  “Come with me.”  The words left her mouth before she was even aware she had thought to speak them.

Dahlia shot her a pained but scathing glare.  “I can’t.  You know I can’t.  My family needs me to work.”

Cara spun around and fumbled in her bag, excitement mingling with the sobering reality of the events she was about to set into motion.  She had nearly forgotten…

Dahlia gasped as Cara thrust several large, rough stones into her hands.  “Are those… where did you…”

“I found them on one of my adventures.  They’re not worth nearly as much as the Jocopo Treasure, but they should be enough.  Send them to your brother.  Tell him to take them to the jewelers in Millcote and sell them.  Come with me.”

Dahlia searched Cara’s face for signs that she was joking.  She found none.

“Come with me.”

Dahlia threw her arms around Cara’s neck and kissed her, lips trembling.  “Thank you.”

Cara kissed her back and stroked her hair.  “We leave soon.  Go get your things together.”

“Spirits know that won’t take long.  I’ll meet you downstairs.”  They kissed once more, then Dahlia wriggled into her clothes and slipped out the door. 

Once again, Cara stared at the closed door, adrenaline making her pulse sing.  She didn’t know exactly what it was she had started, but it felt right, like it was meant to happen.  Her Agiels remained on the floor, forgotten.

 

* * *

 

Richard found both Zedd and Kahlan in the tavern when he returned from pacing the streets of the village. He was still puzzled over what he’d seen earlier so he was relieved to see that Cara was nowhere in sight. Kahlan smiled sleepily at him as he sat down next to her, but her smile turned to a look of concern when she saw his face.

“Richard, what’s wrong?”

He put a hand on her knee to acknowledge he’d heard her, but he addressed Zedd urgently. “Something’s wrong with Cara.”

Zedd shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing’s wrong with Cara, boy. Calm down.”

Kahlan looked seriously from Richard to Zedd. “I think Richard may be right. Cara has been acting strangely recently. Ever since that day we got separated from Richard by that crack that opened up in front of us. I wasn’t sure of it before, but she’s become more and more agitated since we left the Pillars of Creation.”

“And this morning I tried to ask her to go hunting with me and I found her asleep next to some strange woman. I think she may be under a spell that’s making her confused,” Richard added earnestly.

For a moment, no one spoke. Kahlan tried and failed to hide a laugh as she took Richard’s hands. “Richard, I don’t think Cara’s confused about that. I think she was just having a little fun. After all she’d been through, I think she deserves to, don’t you?”

Richard remained unconvinced. “With a woman?”

“Of course with a woman. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But I thought… what about Leo?”

“Cara cared about Leo, yes. But now it seems that she’s found someone else to have feelings for. What does it matter if that person is a man or a woman, so long as she’s happy?”

The way Kahlan spoke made everything make more sense. Richard looked down sheepishly, replaying the scene in Cara’s dimly lit room over in his head, filling in the details with his new understanding. “I didn’t know Cara was interested in women,” he said finally. “The topic’s never really come up before. How did you know?”

Kahlan blushed. “She doesn’t talk about it, but I just know.”

“I thought you couldn’t read Mord’Sith.”

“I can’t interpret the truth of a Mord’Sith’s words, no. But Cara is more than just Mord’Sith. She’s my friend. I’ve come to learn many things about her, some because she told me, others I simply observed. It has nothing to do with my powers as a Confessor.”

Richard looked both sheepish and bewildered. “I really had no idea. Why didn’t she say anything about it before?”

“You should know better than to expect Cara to talk about her feelings, my boy,” Zedd chuckled.

“Especially feelings like these,” Kahlan added. “It hasn’t been easy for her, Richard. First Leo’s death, and now she had to travel with us, knowing that you and I…” she trailed off, having caught sight of Zedd’s warning glare. Richard remained oblivious.

“Why would she be upset that we can finally be together?”

Kahlan blushed a little darker. “It can be hard to be in the company of lovers if one doesn’t have a love of one’s own,” Zedd answered before Kahlan could say anything. She knew all too well Cara’s feelings for her, but she couldn’t even begin to explain her own feelings to herself, much less convey them to Richard. She now had the opportunity to stop trying, she realized. If Cara had resumed seducing random strangers in taverns, maybe that meant she was finally moving on. It was probably best to encourage her. She returned her gaze to Richard.

“Richard, you don’t have to understand it, but you should try to accept it. Apologize for disturbing her and then let the matter drop. Don’t you dare embarrass her any more than you already have.”

Richard nodded and mumbled, “I didn’t mean to embarrass her.”

“Tell her that,” Zedd advised, tilting his head in the direction of the doorway. Richard looked over his shoulder to find Cara quickly approaching the table.

He swallowed hard. “Cara, I’m sorry I walked in on you this morning. I didn’t mean…”

“Forget it,” Cara interrupted, clearly taking pleasure seeing him so bashful. “You’ve learned your lesson, I assume?” Without waiting for a reply, she changed the subject. “I’ve procured another horse and enough supplies for one more person to accompany us to Aydindril. She should be here soon and then we can leave.”

Kahlan blinked at her. _Could it be that Cara actually found someone_ , she wondered. That was better than going from stranger to stranger, but Kahlan still couldn’t explain to herself why she wasn’t happier for Cara.

At that moment, Cara waved to a woman across the room, coming as close to grinning as Kahlan had ever seen her. As the woman approached the table, Cara rose to meet her, then turned to introduce her to her companions. “This is…”

“Dahlia!” Zedd hissed. All eyes turned to him in surprise. His mind raced. _This can’t be happening. She should be miles away in Stowcroft. She and Cara should never even have met. The Spell of Undoing was supposed to keep them apart. They don’t even know I performed the spell, for the Creator’s sake! Cara was right; something must be terribly wrong_ , he thought all at once. _I can’t let them know what I’ve done_. He felt their eyes on him.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear,” he covered smoothly. “The innkeeper pointed you out to me yesterday. He speaks quite highly of you.” Richard, Kahlan and Cara seemed convinced by his explanation. Dahlia smiled at him.

“You must be Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander. I’m pleased to meet you.” Zedd bowed his head graciously, relieved that he’d managed to cover his mistake.

Dahlia turned to Richard and Kahlan. “And you two are the Seeker and the Mother Confessor. I’m honored that you’d let me travel with you.”

Richard was too red to meet Dahlia’s eyes, much less speak. Kahlan stomped on his foot under the table and covered for him. “I’m Kahlan. This is Richard. Welcome to the group, Dahlia.” She smiled. “Have you eaten? Join us for breakfast. We’ve a long ride ahead of us.”

Dahlia thanked her and pulled up a chair. Cara looked to Kahlan, her eyes full of gratitude. Kahlan turned her Confessor’s face pointedly the other direction.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Shortly before midday on the sixth day after departing Morsewood, Richard, Kahlan, Cara, Dahlia and Zedd reached the crossoad just south of Breconne Pass. As they drew near, Richard could make out the form of a lone traveler sitting at the base of a tree, a small pack beside her. Cara, riding at the rear, spotted her as well and drew her horse up next to Richard, the two of them forming a barrier between the stranger and the rest of their party. Cara had not spoken more than a few words to Richard since they’d been on the trail and she showed no sign of breaking that silence now. Richard ignored her and swung down out of his saddle, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Do you need any help?” he asked the woman, who rose to her feet as the group approached. She pulled back the hood of her simple brown traveling cloak to reveal wavy blonde hair that fell to her shoulders. Cara’s agiels flew to her fists as the dappled sunlight glinted off three gems, one scarlet and two colorless, centered low on the woman’s forehead, between her thin eyebrows.

“Who are you?” Cara demanded, stepping up to confront the woman.

“My name is Sister Vanthia. I bear a message for Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell,” she replied evenly, “from Sister Nicci.”

Cara bristled with rage while Richard, Kahlan and Zedd exchanged anxious, confused looks. Dahlia looked on, utterly bewildered.

“Nicci is dead. I killed her myself,” Cara seethed.

Sister Vanthia gave a curt nod. “And if the Creator had any mercy, she would have allowed her to stay that way. Darken Rahl saw fit to have his Mord’Sith revive her so he could usurp the Keeper’s duty of tormenting her.” Her voice wavered with a mixture of anger and terror but her grey eyes never left Kahlan’s face. “He captured many of the Sisters of the Dark and presumed to punish us for failing the Keeper. No doubt he thought so doing would make the Keeper forget his own vile treachery.” Sister Vanthia trembled slightly as she continued. “Sister Nicci returned from the Underworld without a trace of her Han. The rest of us were powerless against the Mord’Sith. They beat us within inches of our lives and beyond, day after day until…” The tears that had been welling in her eyes spilled down her cheeks and her voice broke. “Until Sister Nicci helped us escape. And now we need your help.”

“A likely story,” Cara sneered, “and not very well performed.”

Kahlan pulled her horse level with Cara’s and leaned across the saddle, speaking softly. “Can’t you see the terror in her eyes? She’s telling the truth.”

“Of course I’m telling the truth,” Sister Vanthia interrupted, having regained her composure somewhat. She undid the pin holding her traveling cloak closed, then let the cloak ripple off her shoulders and onto the road. She angled her shoulders, revealing the low-scooped back of her dress and the jagged welts and gashed splashed across her back and shoulders, raw and half-healed. Kahlan gasped involuntarily and glanced at Richard who held her gaze, looking ill.

“Our magic can’t heal them. I doubt even yours can, First Wizard Zorander.” Sister Vanthia turned her gaze briefly to Dahlia’s horrified face before stooping to retrieve her cloak. She spoke no more until she’d securely refastened it around her shoulders.

“I was lucky,” she began again, softly. “I am the only one of us who is fit to travel, so Sister Nicci sent me to bring you to her, Kahlan Amnell.”

Richard regained his voice at the price of his temper. “Nicci confessed Kahlan and tried to kill us both! She wanted to bring about the end of all life for her own self-serving purposes! She is an enemy of the light! What makes her think we’d help her?” he shouted.

Sister Vanthia stood her ground, her grey eyes darkening. “This goes beyond petty matters of light and dark. Sister Nicci returned from the Underworld with news that she says has even the Keeper writhing in panic. The Mother Confessor and her friends might be the only ones who can make a stand against the oncoming storm.”

“What is this ‘oncoming storm’?” Cara demanded, still unconvinced.

Sister Vanthia deflated somewhat, the wind leaving her sails. “I don’t know. She’ll speak of it to no one but you, Mother Confessor. All I know is we must hurry.” She shifted her gaze back to Cara and arched an eyebrow. “Something is terribly wrong.”

Cara blinked at her, taken aback.

“Where is Sister Nicci?” Kahlan asked, her eyes clouding over with mounting concern.

“She’s gone to ground not far from here in a fortified manor house hidden in the Rang’Shada mountains near Agaden Reach. If we leave now we can make it there before sunset tomorrow. There’s no time to waste.

Kahlan took a deep breath and looked at Richard, her face a perfect Confessor’s mask.

“Kahlan, no! So what if Nicci is running scared? It’s the least she deserves.”

“Richard, something must be wrong if Nicci would risk Shota’s wrath to hide from it.”

“Kahlan has a point,” Zedd cut in. “I don’t like it either, but I have a feeling we’d regret leaving Nicci to her own devices. Even without her powers, she’s a formidable enemy. Doubly so if she’s this frightened. We should at least find out what she has to say.”

To Richard’s surprise and dismay, Cara nodded. “She’s right. Something is definitely wrong.” She glared sidelong at Zedd, who balked but said nothing.

Richard heaved a sigh, releasing his grip on the hilt of his sword along with his anger. “Fine. We’ll see what she has to say.”

“No!” Sister Vanthia cut in. “Sister Nicci will only speak with Kahlan. Time is against us. The rest of you must continue to Aydindril. Kahlan will come with me and catch up with you there. In the meantime…” She knelt and pulled two small, black books out of her pack, handing one to Richard. “She can send word with these.” She noticed the concerned looks the others exchanges and added, “You have my word: she will come to no harm by our hands. But if we don’t hurry, plenty of harm could befall the entire world before anyone even sees it coming.”

Richard looked at the Journey Book as if it were a snake held by the tail. “I fell for this trick once; I won’t be fooled again.” He took the second Journey Book out of Sister Vanthia’s hands and set the two side by side. Before anyone could make a move to stop him he sliced into his hand with his knife. He dipped the book’s pen in his blood and scrawled the word ‘Truth’ in his Journey Book. The word shone on the pages of both books instantaneously, two flawless copies. Richard let out the breath he’d been holding and snapped both books shut. He thrust the second one back at Sister Vanthia.

“I still don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” Kahlan replied, “but she’s telling the truth. I can’t just ignore this.”

Cara jumped off her horse and began distributing the contents of her saddle bags into their other saddle bags. She turned to Sister Vanthia when she was finished. “Take my horse. You’ll get there and back to Aydindril much faster if you ride.” She shoved the reigns into Sister Vanthia’s hands before swinging herself up behind Dahlia in her saddle. “If you insist on going, go quickly,” she concluded, addressing Kahlan without looking her in the face.

Sister Vanthia secured her pack behind Cara’s horse’s saddle and mounted up, wincing at the pain her wounds gave her.

Richard watched her with contempt but he had to admit defeat. He patted the neck of Kahlan’s horse, then rested his hand on Kahlan’s thigh. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

Before anyone could exchange another word, Sister Vanthia dug her heels into her horse’s flanks and took off down the trail. Kahlan had no choice but to do the same.

Richard watched them disappear off into the trees. “Yes,” he said at last, “something is very wrong.”

 

* * *

  

Sister Vanthia was right: just before the last rays of sun died out the next evening, she and Kahlan were within sight of the manor where Sister Nicci was hiding.  It was a massive structure, glooming and imposing, built into the side of the cliffs themselves.  Wolves howled in the distance, sending a chill down Kahlan’s spine and making her horse shift uncomfortably beneath her.  She put on her Confessor’s face, setting her jaw as Sister Vanthia dismounted.

“I’ll see to the horses.  Sister Nicci is waiting for you inside.”

Kahlan said nothing, eyeing the gates of the manor uneasily.  She too dismounted and handed her reigns to Sister Vanthia who led the horses off into the rolling fog without another word.  Kahlan was left alone in the all-but-darkness, dread and the cold mountain air making her shiver.  For a few moments she considered turning around and heading back the way they’d come on her own, but the wolves howled again, closer this time, and she thought better of it.  The voice in the back of her mind warned her that she was walking into a trap but she ignored it, raising a hand to knock at the looming, rivet-strewn door.

To her surprise, the doors swung open before she’d even touched them, though when she stepped hesitantly inside no one was in sight.  Torches flared to life on either side of the entrance hall, illuminating a single Sister of the Dark standing on the hallway’s threadbare crimson carpet. 

“This place was once the haunt of a powerful sorcerer,” she said by way of explanation, indicating the doors and torches.  She offered no further introduction but merely turned and limped off down the corridor.  “Sister Nicci is waiting.”

Kahlan watched her as she walked away, dumbstruck momentarily.  The woman paused, glancing back at Kahlan in annoyance.  Kahlan followed without another word.

The sister led her through a maze of dark hallways, at last ushering her into a dimly lit room, a dining room by the long dusty table set with old, tarnished silver, candles flickering from brass candelabra in the center.

“Eat.  Sister Nicci will join you shortly,” the sister commanded.  Before Kahlan could argue she had stepped back through the doorway, shutting the heavy door behind her.  Alarmed, Kahlan tried to follow but she found the door locked tight.  She hadn’t even heard the bold slide into place.  She pounded on the door, trying to keep the panic out of her shouts.  When no answer came, she willed herself to regain her composure and turned to examine the table.  A single bowl of some sort of stew steamed at the side of the far end, near the head of the table.  She eyed it warily, the hunger from her hard ride battling the suspicion and mounting panic.  The stew smelled quite good, but she resolved to wait until Nicci arrived.  Kahlan sat uneasily in one of the table’s high-backed chairs and waited.

And waited.

The minutes stretched on and still there was no sign of Nicci.  The steam stopped rising off the stew and still Kahlan waited.  At last the gnawing hunger won out and she held a spoonful of stew to her lips, tasting it hesitantly.  It was indeed quite good, if somewhat cold.  She took a second spoonful and as soon as it touched her lips the door swung open.  Sister Nicci strode into the room and settled into the chair at the head of the table.  Kahlan glared at her, her face flushing with a powerful surge of emotion.  She had not heard her approach, nor had she heard the lock release, but she did not stop to wonder about that now.

Kahlan hated her, this witch who had taken her Confessor powers and used them against her, compelling her to turn against the man she loved.  When last they’d parted, Kahlan had left Nicci for dead, flying into the Con Dar to avenge her death.  Phantom pangs of grief and rage flared to life in her memory even now that she’d been released from Confession. 

Nicci watched as Kahlan struggled to beat down her tangled emotions.  The merest hint of a smirk hung on her lips, but her murky hazel eyes were shadowy, devoid of their usual defiant gleam, Kahlan noticed, and it cooled her rage.  She took in Nicci’s whole appearance.  She wore a dark gown that covered her from chin to foot.  Her hair was swept back in a simple, modest braid.  Though she carried herself with her usual regal grace, Kahlan noticed that the edge of haughty confidence had left her.  She eyed the long sleeves of Nicci’s dress and wondered how many of Rahl’s scars were concealed beneath them.  Sister Vanthia’s story must have been true; Kahlan tried but could not feel any hint of magic around Nicci. 

As if she could read her thoughts, Nicci chose that moment to speak.  “I don’t want your pity, Mother Confessor, only your help.”  Her voice was steady but subdued.  “With the fate of the world at stake, let’s put the past behind us, shall we?”

“The fate of the world, Nicci?  That’s a very weighty claim. I assure you, it’ll take at least a world-threatening disaster to make me even consider helping you.  You claim you heard something while you were in the Underworld, something that frightens even the Keeper.  Another weighty claim.  Speak quickly.  You’ve wasted enough of my time already.”

Indeed, Nicci wasted no more time.  She drew a deep breath and began.  “At first I thought it only rumor, horror stories whispered amid the flames to make the torments of the Underworld pale in comparison.  The spirits spoke of a terrible nothingness, the end of all light, all darkness, everything, brought about by a power greater than the Creator or the Keeper themselves.  They were the same stories I’d heard as a child.  I’m sure you’ve heard them too.  There’s not a person alive that doesn’t fear nothingness more than even the darkest pits of the Underworld.”

Despite being unsettled by the haunted look in Nicci’s eyes, Kahlan remained unconvinced.  “It’ll take more than vague superstition about the end of the universe to scare me.”

“That’s how I felt at first.  But the murmurs grew louder, the stories more specific.  Something happened during the war between the Keeper and the Creator, something that should not have happened.  Neither the Keeper nor the Creator know what it was, but they both agree: something has happened that changed the course of history itself.”

Nicci’s words hit Kahlan like a blast of icy wind and she gasped, sudden understanding throwing her eyes wide with fear.  “History has been altered?  Are you saying…”

Nicci nodded solemnly.  “The Maestra is furious.  It is said she spoke to the Keeper and Creator, admonishing them for allowing such a thing to happen during their war.  It is said that the tear in the fabric of time is so dire that the Maestra would rather destroy this timeline, past, present and future – and heaven and hell along with it - instead of allowing history to continue on this new course.  I myself saw the terror in the Keeper’s eyes before I was pulled back into the world of the living.  I have no doubt that it is true.”

Kahlan dropped her head into her hands.  “The Maestra.  I thought she was only a myth.  Dear spirits, I’ve prayed she was only a myth.  The end of the universe…” she trailed off in despair.  “But you said you needed my help.  I’ve no power against the Goddess of Time.  What do you want from me?”

Nicci swallowed hard.  “I need you to take me to Aydindril.  If there’s a way to stop the Maestra from destroying the world, key lies in the Wizard’s Keep.  I also need your protection.  I escaped Darken Rahl once. I won’t get the chance a second time.  He doesn’t know the things I’ve just told you, but he tried his hardest to find them out.”  She unceremoniously pulled back the sleeves of her dress to display the burned, scarred and blistered flesh underneath.  “If he catches me he’s sure to find out and if he does he’ll do everything in his power to stop us from thwarting the Maestra’s destruction.  He, for one, would rather face nothingness than go to the Keeper after having betrayed him.”

Kahlan remained silent for several moments, deep in thought.  Finally she raised her head and met Nicci’s eyes.  “I will take you to Aydindril and protect you from Rahl, but you need to understand that nothing has changed between us.  I can’t forgive you for what you made me do to Richard.”

“I’m not asking you to.  I can’t forgive you for stopping me.  We can go back to being mortal enemies after we’ve saved the world,” Nicci drawled, sounding more like herself by the second.  Kahlan was unsure whether to be relieved or unsettled.

“Bargain struck.”

“Good.  If you’ve finished eating I’ll show you to your room.  Send word to the others so that they may start looking for answers as soon as they reach Aydindril.  We’ve no time to lose.  We’ll leave for Aydindril at first light.”


	7. Chapter 7

Kahlan slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning in the monstrous canopy bed Nicci had made up for her.  Before she’d gone to bed, Kahlan had written to Zedd and Richard in her Journey Book, confirming that she was safe and that Sister Vanthia’s story was true: Nicci had no magic but had escaped Rahl somehow with news from the Underworld.  Her hands shook as she recounted what Nicci had told her about the Maestra, the change in the course of history and the imminent destruction of the universe.  She urged them to begin the search for a way to stop it all as soon as possible.  When it finally came, Zedd’s response was brief and apprehensive: “I think I know where to begin looking.  Dear spirits, don’t let it be true.”

Richard’s response was even shorter: “Be careful.”

The words swirled through her elusive nightmares as she tossed.  _Dear spirits, don’t let it be true._   She saw faces in her dreams, too.  Three of them, shadowy, unfamiliar and hauntingly beautiful.  Try as she did to focus on them, all three faces flitted away into blackness, disappearing entirely and then reappearing as she slipped in and out of sleep.

Through the veil of her nightmares, Kahlan became aware of extra weight on the bed, a presence close at hand.  The faces from her dreams did not fade away as she came fully awake but instead solidified, their eyes peering down at her.  She blinked hard, but the three women remained, one at each of her shoulders, the other at her feet.  Kahlan calculated the odds of being able to fight them off but quickly abandoned the notion.  She was outnumbered, even with her Confessor powers, and she was pinned under her covers besides.  The women, Sisters of the Dark, no doubt, did not pose an immediate threat, so she willed herself to calm down.

“Who are you?”

The sister at her left shoulder, blonde and incredibly tall, Kahlan noted, answered first.  “My name is Sister Elena.  This is Sister Crystal and that’s Sister Elizabeth.”

“Sister Nicci told us to make sure you slept well.  We heard you shouting so we investigated.”  Sister Crystal explained flipping her long red hair over her shoulder.  Sister Elizabeth said nothing, staring silently from the foot of the bed, her chin-length jet-black hair hiding her face in shadows.

Kahlan looked from one woman to the next, trying to make sense of what was happening.  “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”

Sister Elena grinned wolfishly.  “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do for you?”  Sister Crystal raised an eyebrow and leaned closer.

“Let her be!” Nicci’s voice rang out from the doorway, a hint of amusement in her voice.  The three sisters shot her disappointed looks but obeyed nonetheless.  They slipped off the bed and glided towards the door where they paused hopefully.

“Out!” Nicci barked, shaking her head as they jumped and beat a hasty retreat down the pitch-dark hallway.  She shut the door behind them and turned, crossing the room and taking Sister Crystal’s place at Kahlan’s right shoulder.  “Don’t worry about those three.  I think this creepy old house has gone to their heads.  I’m sorry they scared you.”

“They didn’t.”

Nicci smirked.  “They wouldn’t have harmed you.  I, on the other hand…”

Before Kahlan could even flinch, Nicci’s hand found her throat, squeezing hard as a wave of magic, thunder without sound, blasted through Kahlan’s body, making every muscle go rigid with shock.  Kahlan’s pupils dilated and her eyes widened as Nicci pitched forward across her chest, momentarily incapacitated by the effort of wielding such power. 

“Command me, Mistress.”  Kahlan murmured, helping Nicci up and stroking her hair as she regained her strength.  Nicci swatted her hand away and grinned triumphantly at her. 

An odd, slow-staccato sound echoed through the room as a figure emerged out of the shadows, applauding sardonically.  “Well played, Sister Nicci,” Darken Rahl drawled, amusement and victory flashing in his eyes.

Kahlan leapt from the bed, snatched up her daggers and rushed at him, growling in rage.

“Stop!” Nicci’s voice froze her in her tracks.  The daggers clattered to the floor as Kahlan gaped at her.

“But Mistress, you asked me to protect you from Darken Rahl.  He hurt you and he wants to stop our mission.  Run, my lady, I’ll hold him off!”

Both Nicci and Rahl laughed.  “Yes, very well done indeed,” Rahl applauded again.  “You believed every word of Nicci’s little charade, didn’t you, Kahlan?”

Kahlan’s eyes welled up with wounded tears.  “Why?”

“I had to say _something_ to get you to trust me.”  Nicci grinned wickedly.  “How else would I have gotten the chance to confess you?”

Kahlan wept silently for a moment, thinking things over.  Her brow creased in confusion.  “How did you do it?  You have no magic.”

Nicci pulled a hinged silver collar out of the fold of her dress.

“A Rada’Han?  You hid it with the high neck of your dress.  Mistress, that’s brilliant!” Kahlan’s eyes sparkled with delight, and then quickly clouded.  “So nothing you told me was true, then?”

Nicci’s face clouded too.  “No, unfortunately the things I told you about the Maestra are very much true.  And I do need your help, but not to protect me from Rahl.”

Kahlan nearly burst into tears of joy at the opportunity.  “Command me, Mistress!”

Nicci and Rahl exchanged a look of satisfaction before Nicci continued.  “You and your friends will do everything in your power to prevent the Maestra from wreaking her destruction.  If you fail, obviously I will have no further use for you.  But if you succeed, you will return to the office of Mother Confessor and you will rule over the Midlands.  You will also convince Richard to claim the throne of D’Hara and then the two of you will use your influence to unite the three territories under your joint rule.  It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult; the people love you.  When you’ve succeeded in that…” She paused, once again shooting a knowing look at Rahl.  He gave her a small, fiery smile and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up against him.  She rested a hand on his chest and beamed.  “Once you’ve succeeded in that, you will surrender the throne to us.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Kahlan replied instantaneously.  As before, her face turned quickly from joy to despair.  “But… but Richard would never agree.”

“Then you’ll have to confess him,” Rahl smirked.

“But I can’t confess Richard.  His love for me protects him from my powers.”

This time, Nicci and Rahl laughed in earnest.  “You don’t actually believe that, do you, Kahlan?  How quaint,” Nicci chuckled, eyes streaming.  Kahlan’s face crumpled even more.

“But Mistress, I tried to confess him when I was in the Con Dar and I failed.  I didn’t take him with my power when he took me into his bed, either.  He is immune.”

“That’s because a portion of your powers had been transferred to Nicci.  When she died, that portion followed her into the Underworld, but the link between the two of you remained intact.  The rest of your power trickled away slowly, pulled into the Underworld guided by that link.  If I hadn’t made my Mord’Sith revive Nicci, the link would have pulled your very soul into the Underworld.  By the time you tried to confess Richard, all your remaining power was invested in maintaining the Con Dar.  You came out of it shortly thereafter, yes?”

Kahlan nodded.  “I was upset because I’d killed him.”

“No.  You simply lost the rest of your powers.  Had the timing been different, Richard would be confessed to you at this very moment.”

Kahlan fell silent for a few moments, head reeling.  “You’re right,” she exclaimed.  “I confessed all four of the Mord’Sith in the town square, but on the beach I could only confess two of the Sisters.  Then I couldn’t confess Richard at all.”  She frowned.  “But then my powers returned when you revived my mistress.  Why didn’t I confess him when we…”

“It wasn’t very good, was it?” Nicci asked, amusement in her voice.  Kahlan blinked at her in confusion.  She rolled her eyes and clarified, “He didn’t make you come, did he?”

“Kahlan thought back to the night at the inn with its thin walls and noisy bedframe.  “No, Mistress,” she blushed furiously.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised to hear that,” Nicci laughed.  “But it does mean you’ll need to be careful.  Wait to confess him until the right moment.”

“But Mistress, how could I even think about taking him to bed?  That would mean betraying you.”  She brought a hand to Nicci’s cheek, eyes brimming at the thought.

Nicci swatted her hand away again.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  It is my wish that you act completely naturally, as if nothing happened here tonight.  You are not to call me ‘Mistress’ or ‘my lady’ or anything of the sort ever again, and you will not, under any circumstances, fawn over me.  If anyone even begins to suspect that you’re confessed to me, I will be severely displeased.  As far as anyone else is concerned, you and I are enemies and you will treat me as such, even if it means speaking ill of me, even if it means agreeing when others speak ill of me.  Do I make myself clear?”  Nicci’s voice sizzled with deadly seriousness. 

Kahlan sucked her lower lip, eyes wide.  “Yes, Mistress.”

Nicci backhanded her hard across the face, knocking her sprawling across the bed.  Rahl chuckled.  “What did I just tell you?” Nicci growled.

Kahlan sobbed.  “I’m sorry, M… Sister Nicci.  I’ll try harder to please you.”

Nicci grinned with smug satisfaction, shooting Rahl yet another knowing look.  “Yes, I imagine you’ll try very hard to please me,” Nicci drawled, reclining against the headboard of the bed.  She crooked a finger, instantly turning Kahlan’s bones to rubber.

“My l… Sister Nicci,” Kahlan breathed, swaying.  “I thought we were in a hurry to get to Aydindril so we can figure out how to appease the Maestra.”

“I said we’d leave at first light,” Nicci countered.  “That’s hours away.”

Kahlan nearly swooned at her words.  She gasped as Rahl snapped the Rada’Han closed around her neck.  Confusion and desire burned in her eyes as she gave him a questioning look.  Nicci laughed cruelly at her bewilderment and pulled Kahlan into her lap.

“Don’t worry, pet, it’ll come off in the morning,” she growled.  She bit down on Kahlan’s earlobe, making her whimper.

“We can’t have you inadvertently confessing either of us, now, can we?” Rahl mocked.  He pulled the canopy curtains closed around them and laughed.


End file.
